


The Purification Of The Michael Sword

by omgbubblesomg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Brainwashed Castiel (Supernatural), Brainwashing, Forced Orgasm, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapped Dean Winchester, M/M, Public Sex, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, everything is........... not fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 05:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18336752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgbubblesomg/pseuds/omgbubblesomg
Summary: Naomi waited until the target had righted himself again before she cleared her throat. “Sword of Michael,” she said. “You have been brought here to answer for your sins against Heaven and Mankind.”“Cas!” The target wasn’t even looking at her. “Cas, don’t let her get in your head!”





	The Purification Of The Michael Sword

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Bad Things Happen Bingo. Square filled: Brainwashing. Original post [here](https://omgbubblesomg.tumblr.com/post/178457203904/square-filled-brainwashing)
> 
> Thanks to gertiecraign for helping me with the last bit  
> Me: they gotta have sex  
> Gertie: What if it's another sign of his Sin  
> Me: [_......genius_](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/DimwittedAlertCassowary-size_restricted.gif)

There were no difficulties acquiring the target. Of course he had never suspected that the council would be wrong on such matters, but he was still surprised when his mission was successfully completed without any delays or complications. He had walked right into the target’s lair and right back out without any barriers or anti-angel sigils getting in his way.

The target moved in his arms in such a way that he presumed it was supposed to be struggling, though he was strong enough that the resistance was completely ineffectual. He dropped the target at the base of the council’s dais and stepped back out of the way. Many of the council members watched him retreat and he ducked his head, not wanting to appear arrogant about his successful mission. A few of the council members shared glances among themselves.

The head of the council stood and raised her arms. “Well done, Castiel,” she said. “You have finally learned to follow orders, I see.”

He bowed deep. “Thanks to the strength and wisdom of the council I hope to one day be a great asset to Heaven.” He didn’t remember his training though he knew it had been extensive. He bowed again. “I am glad that I have been selected to serve.”

The corner of her mouth twitched up in what looked like a smirk, though it was gone a moment later. She turned her attention to the target, who had struggled to his knees and was shouting incoherently past the cloth wedged between his teeth. He had painstakingly inched forward, though Castiel was surprised to see that he hadn’t tried to make his way to the exit. He appeared to be heading towards _Castiel._

“Remove the gag,” a councilman ordered. Castiel rushed to obey.

“Naomi you psychotic bitch!” the target shouted as soon as his mouth was free. “What have you done to him?”

Castiel glanced at the council, and with a nod from the head—Naomi, he assumed—he slapped the target across his cheek, hard enough to knock him off his knees. The target spat out a mouthful of blood but when he looked at Castiel it wasn’t with fury or hatred.

“Cas,” the target pleaded. “Cas, snap out of it! It’s me!”

Castiel looked at the council, and some of the council members leaned forward in their chairs, as though waiting to see what he would do. He glanced at Naomi, who nodded again. He slapped the target on his other cheek.

Naomi waited until the target had righted himself again before she cleared her throat. “Sword of Michael,” she said. “You have been brought here to answer for your sins against Heaven and Mankind.”

“Cas!” The target wasn’t even looking at her. “Cas, don’t let her get in your head!”

Castiel hesitated, and without thinking his fingers came up to touch his vessel. There was a soft spot just above his ear. He seemed to remember something touching that spot. Or something _in_ that spot.

“Michael Sword, you will answer for your crimes.”

“Cas it’s _me,_ it’s _Dean._ You know me!”

Castiel shook his head. There was something buzzing at the back of it but when he looked to Naomi for guidance he almost flinched. She was staring at him and her eyes were chill and grey and he knew he had seen them before. Whatever had been buzzing at the back of his head skittered away from the look in her eyes, and he was once more assured of his place and role. Naomi smiled coldly.

“Castiel, you will purify the Michael Sword.”

Castiel slid his angel blade into his hand, and advanced.

“Cas, stop! It’s me!”

Naomi raised a hand. “That’s not the purification we require,” she said. “You must purify it in the ancient way of Heaven. You must return its body to its original purpose, to be a vessel for Heaven’s use.”

Castiel paused for a moment and poured through his memories with some difficulty. Everything felt like sludge when he examined it too closely. Whole swathes of time were missing. “The ancient way?” he finally ventured.

Naomi waved her hand and the clothes of his vessel disappeared. When he looked to his feet the target’s clothes were also missing, though his ankles were still locked and wrists were still secured at the small of his back.

“The Michael Sword must be both punished and prepared,” another council member said calmly.

“Do your duty, Soldier.”

Castiel had no memory of this as either a punishment or a ritual, but his vessel knew what to do. He picked the target up and ignored his struggling, turning him around until he rested on forehead and knees.

“Cas stop! Look at me! Look me in the eyes!”

He didn’t look the target in the eyes. He kept him down with one hand between his shoulder blades. The constellation of freckles on the target’s back made him pause, and for a moment he remembered, vividly, how he had replaced each and every freckle as he’d scorched a path from Hell to Earth with this ruined body in his arms.

But then he saw grey eyes and biting cold and he knew the memory wasn’t real, or at least it wasn’t True, which was the same thing but different.

He pressed down harder until the target’s nose was crushed to the floor at the foot of the dais. It didn’t stop the target from struggling.

“Cas don’t let them do this!”

He kneeled behind the target, which was not so difficult. It was not all that different from kneeling in front of Naomi, and he knew he had done that before. His body remembered being broken and weary at her feet. He pressed the target’s knees apart as best as he could and the council members leaned forward as one.

“Cas wait, Cas don’t, Cas, I—” the target gasped and choked on the next word as Castiel lined their bodies up, preparing the purification. “Wait, wait, wait, stop! Cas, Jesus! You have to know it’s me!”

Castiel thought, abstractly, as he pushed his way inside, that he would put these freckles back in the exact same order, given the chance. He didn’t know what made him do it but he stretched his hand out to map the pattern of them on the target’s back, and then, carefully, he reached down to wipe away the target’s tears as they fell.

The target turned his face away.

The purification took longer than Castiel had anticipated. His vessel kept reacting in strange and unruly ways. He couldn’t seem to move the comforting hand off the target’s back.

After many long minutes the council became bored, and began to talk amongst themselves, but he was not dismissed. He continued the cleansing.

“Cas,” the target whispered, his voice broken by the ground and his own tears. “Cas, I forgive you.”

Castiel glanced down at the target, and something drew his eyes to the left shoulder. Unblemished.

“If you remember this, remember that I forgive you.”

“What is it saying?” Naomi snapped.

Castiel hesitated. “The target is forgiving me,” he said.

“Your sins are numerous and deep,” Naomi hissed. “And cannot by forgiven by anyone but Heaven.”

“You have no sins,” the target corrected, almost silently against the floor. “Cas. Cas, don’t… Don’t listen to her. Fight it.”

Castiel put his hand on the target’s left shoulder. Sweat tickled the underside of his palm, brought into motion by the steady rocking of the purification. The target flinched away from the grip. Castiel used his free hand to bring the target’s hips back into line against his own, and this made the target flinch again, though this time he flinched into the contact, and the place where they were connected went warm and tight. The target’s breath hitched.

Naomi noticed it as well. “Once a sinner, always a sinner,” she said coldly. She didn’t bother looking at Castiel to give him his next order. “Make sure the sword knows how deep its sin goes.”

Castiel wasn’t sure what she was referring to, but some suppressed memory made him bring up his hand and slide it beneath the target’s body. The target’s struggling started anew.

“Cas, what? No! Don’t let her do this to us!”

Castiel found the soft vulnerable organs of the target’s sex. He wrapped his hand low and tight, and almost without knowing what he was doing he began to move his hand in counterpoint to his hips. The target thrashed and shouted, but went nowhere that Castiel couldn’t easily follow. He gave a warning squeeze and the target finally stilled, gasping deep, uneven breaths that punched right back out of him with every thrust of the purification.

“Don’t,” he kept whimpering. “Don’t, Cas, don’t.”

Castiel shifted his hand where it gripped the target’s shoulder. He moved his fingers until they were just right. Until they perfectly imitated… something. Another hand-print. He squeezed his eyes shut but the memory felt thick and resistant.

Still, it was familiar. The touch. The target’s breath. Castiel couldn’t see his face but he could perfectly picture the clench of the target’s jaw, and the heavy set of his shoulders against the intrusion between his legs.

 _My vessel knows this body,_ he realised.

He felt the ghost of a hand on his back, a smile, someone saying, _Good to see you, pal._ His fingertips on a forehead. His grace in the lines of each rib. Memories rose through the cracks of his mind like weeds through concrete.

He twisted his hand gently and rubbed his thumb against a vein he could feel beneath the head of the target’s cock. The target arched his back and groaned, shaking his head and still whispering _No, don’t, stop_. He was hot and hard in Castiel’s hand. Harder even than Castiel was.

Of touching, Castiel had memories aplenty. His hands knew this body. Slapped shoulders and gripped forearms and, worse, the heavy thud of fists meeting flesh. But nothing else. He sped up the motion of his hand, and could find no memory to join it.

He draped himself over the target’s back and let his head fall to the junction of neck and shoulder, where the council would not be able to see his mouth move.

“Have we done this before?” he whispered there.

The target shuddered, unable to slow his harsh breathing. His forehead was red from the friction of being rubbed against the concrete. He turned his face to the side so his weight was on one cheek and he could level a bright, wet eye at Castiel. His mouth was open.

 _I know you,_ Castiel understood suddenly, irrevocably. _Not just your body. Not just your voice. I know_ you.

The target shook his head.

Castiel took his hand off the target’s shoulder and dug beneath the weight of their bodies. He cupped the target’s testicles and brought them up, pressing them warm and tight, close to where he still plunged into the target’s now-unresistant body. The target lurched and groaned again. The green of his eye was the green of grief. And of pleasure.

“You’re Dean,” Castiel said. And he didn’t realise how reverent it would sound until it was out.

Dean’s body locked up and he cried out, pulling Castiel off a cliff he hadn’t even realised he’d been standing at. Their bodies jerked in tandem as neurons Castiel had never paid attention to began to fire and spark.

He pulled out slowly, carefully. He rolled Dean onto his back.

“Get us out of here,” Dean begged hoarsely. “Cas, hurry.”

Castiel mapped the familiar lines of his face, and then he stood up and backed away, ducking his head. His dick slapped wetly against his thigh.

“Wait,” Dean said. “Cas, no. Don’t, don’t go. You know me, you know me!”

Naomi was smiling with all her teeth at once. “He knows you,” she agreed. “But you don’t know him.” She turned her smile on Castiel and her grey eyes brought back every memory of dark, cold places, and things wriggling inside his head. “He’s an angel of Heaven,” she said. “And he answers to no man.”

Dean was struggling to get to his knees. “You bitch,” he said weakly, “you bitch. You got what you wanted, now just send us home.”

The other council members began to file out, but Naomi remained seated. “I think,” she said, getting comfortable, “that this is a lesson that bears repeating.” She waved her hand for Castiel to continue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *cracks knuckles* wowee it's been a while since we had a nice, wholesome, Let's Hurt Everyone (including the author) fic.
> 
> Oops, almost forgot to add a ~Read More~  
> If you like Cas being forced to fuck Dean for Heaven, might I recommend [Being Useful](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337315/chapters/25374069) by HazelDomain. If you like Dean being kidnapped and subjected to the whims of an asshole, you'll love [The Bone Eater](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167437/chapters/20814721) by metarachel.  
> Both these fics are WIPS, but if you haven't read them i just. i don't know what to tell you. You're mad.


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